Lord, my weak thought in vain would climb
To search the star­ry vault pro­found;
In vain would wing her flight sub­lime,
To find cre­ation’s ut­most bound.

But weak­er yet that thought must prove
To search Thy great eter­nal plan,
Thy so­ve­reign coun­sels, born of love
Long ag­es ere the world be­gan.

When my dim rea­son would de­mand
Why that, or this, Thou dost or­dain,
By some vast deep I seem to stand,
Whose sec­rets I must ask in vain.

When doubts dis­turb my trou­bled breast,
And all is dark as night to me,
Here, as on so­lid rock, I rest,
That so it seem­eth good to Thee.

Be this my joy, that ev­er­more
Thou rul­est all things at Thy will;
Thy so­ve­reign wis­dom I ad­ore,
And calm­ly, sweet­ly, trust Thee still.